Pleasurewood Pines
by OzzyJ
Summary: "Death is sadly a part of life here, at Pleasurewood Pines". An undercover mission, tests relationships new and old.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the characters of Major Crimes; they are not my intellectual property. I am not financially benefiting from this story in any way.

 **Notes:** Hello * **waves*!** I'm starting a new story (yay!) It's been a while - so here's hoping I'm not too rusty (pun entirely intended).

Thanks to Mel for the beta!

 **Pleasurewood Pines**

It was a balmy morning in LA; a scattering of cloud sheltered the city from the full heat of the sun. Captain Sharon Raydor looked out over the skyline from a vantage point – absorbing the last moments of calm on her balcony, before she was forced to join the congested network of roads below.

Even though Sharon had arisen almost an hour ago, she still felt the draw of her bed; she hadn't slept at all well last night. After hours of tossing and turning, she had given up around 5am and headed to the bathroom for a shower.

The presence of another person in her bed was taking a while to get used to. After years of living and sleeping alone – it had been the thought of starting a new sexual relationship that had kept her awake at night. It needn't have however – in that department they were _really_ quite compatible.

It was the 'actually sleeping' part that was proving to be more challenging. Sharon slept light and Andy snored, he liked to cuddle and she was prone to hot flushes; it would be comical if she weren't so damn exhausted.

As Sharon took a sip of her coffee – hoping the bitter liquid would help to revive her senses - she heard the patio doors slide open behind her. She felt the cold bite of air-conditioning against the backs of her legs, before that coolness was replaced with the soft brush of slept-in fabric.

"Morning, beautiful." Andy muttered near her ear as he looped his arms around her waist and placed a warm kiss to her cheek.

"Good morning," Sharon leant back into his embrace, a contented smile touching her lips. Just like that – with such a simple gesture - her annoyance at a poor nights sleep drifted away. She placed a hand over his at her waist; she wouldn't change this for the world. "Did you sleep well?"

"Always," he rested his chin on her shoulder, his voice still a little raspy from a heavy nights sleep.

"You're already dressed; you've been up for ages..."

"Wow," Sharon laughed softly, playfully nudging his chin with her shoulder. "Good work lieutenant."

"Thank you, " he retorted through a smile of his own, before turning more serious. "Did I snore again?"

Sharon hummed contemplatively. " A little...but I'm getting used to it."

"How diplomatic of you, Captain." Andy turned her in his arms. "I'm sorry," he pouted.

"It's fine," Sharon leant in and dropped a soft kiss to his sulking lips. "Really," she smiled as she pushed the half-full mug of coffee into his hands. "Here, you can finish this – I'm heading in early. I've got a ton of paperwork to do before the rest of the team arrives," she stepped around him and headed for the door. "I really want to get a head-start before the next case comes in."

"Okay," Andy followed her back into the apartment. "I'll see you there." He took a sip of the coffee she had prepared and recoiled with a grimace. "God, that's strong."

"I know," Sharon picked up her purse and a flask full of said coffee from the counter, before turning back to face him. "I'm _getting_ used to your snoring," she kissed him once more, then turned to leave. "I'm just not quite there _yet._ "

"Don't be late," she finished with a playful smirk over her shoulder, before shutting the door behind her .

xXx

"Hold the elevator!" Sharon - skilfully balancing her purse, a flask of coffee and a box of files - rushed across the entrance hall to the LAPD headquarters, in an attempt to beat the closing doors.

Upon boarding however, she wished she'd waited for the next one.

"Ah, just the person!" Assistant Chief Taylor greeted her with his customarily smug smile. "Good morning, Captain Raydor."

 _'It was...'_ She internalised, before begrudgingly reciprocating. "Good morning Assistant Chief Taylor; do we have a new case?"

"We certainly do," Taylor said as he rocked back on his heals and clasped his hands in front of him. "I'd like you and Lieutenant Provenza to join me in my office at 8:30 sharp," his gaze drifted up to the floor indicator light above the doors. "You'll have to prep your team for some overtime," he said with a hint of a smile – one that Sharon thought was entirely inappropriate considering her involvement in a case almost always meant that somebody had died.

She had always found Taylor's smile to be unsettling; it often crept across his face in situations that would inconvenience her team – or place them in less desirable situations. It wasn't a secret that there was 'no love lost' between the now -Assistant Chief- and his former comrades - but he seemed to derive some pleasure from their suffering...Sharon deduced however, that if the boot was on the other foot, Provenza would most likely draw just as much enjoyment.

"Of course," she shifted the box of files to rest on her hip, as the elevator ground to a halt and the doors opened. The Assistant Chief always made claiming overtime especially difficult; the fact that he was willing to just give it away before they had even started the case, caused a knot to form in Sharon's stomach. "Are you expecting his case to be particularly trying, Chief?"

"Oh, it's going to be an interesting case, Captain," Taylor exited the elevator and turned back to face Sharon, his smile still firmly in place. "One that will involve a little more input than usual..." the doors began to close. "...Especially from you."

As the elevator began to move once more, the knot in the Sharon's stomach tightened.

xXx

"Pleasurewood Pines," Chief Taylor pushed a file across the boardroom table to where Sharon and Provenza sat. "An independent living community, built two years ago just outside of Brentwood Heights."

"Housing for the elderly?" Sharon thought aloud as she fingered through the prospectus; it's pages littered with photographs of smiling, silver haired models. Some played golf, whilst others enjoyed what looked like spirited conversations with nursing staff.

"Housing for the 55's and over, Captain," Taylor corrected her and she and Provenza shared a glance. "It was penned as of utopia - of sorts - for the retired elite; each villa has it's own pool – there's a golf course, tennis courts..."

"Oh, how the other half die," Provenza grumped as he pushed the prospectus back towards the Assistant Chief – the Lieutenant's expression deftly communicating his dislike for such places.

"The community also offers end of life care; the villa's can be adapted as the occupant ages and mobility becomes more of an issue..."

"Why does it feel like you're directing this sales pitch at me?" Provenza raised his eyebrow and Sharon stifled as smile before interjecting.

"I've looked at places like this for my parents," She pointed casually towards the brochure. " They offer their clients the piece of mind...if the worst were to happen."

"And it inevitably does," Taylor continued, "As you can imagine, death is sadly part of life at Pleasurewood."

"Do they put _that_ in the brochure?" Provenza picked up the prospectus, before dropping it back on the table. "So," he leant back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest; he was clearly irritable, Sharon thought, about being dragged into a meeting before his morning coffee. "What's the case?"

"I was getting to that, Lieutenant." Taylor responded snappily; Provenza's attitude was wearing the Assistant Chief's patience thin. "It has been apparent that a recent spate of deaths at Pleasurewood have occurred under suspicious circumstances..."

"Murder," Sharon surmised. "How many is a _spate?"_

"Four." Taylor answered - matter of fact.

"Four?" Sharon questioned him, surprise evident in her tone.

"That we know of."

"That we know of?" Sharon's eyebrows retreated to her hairline. Chief, how did we get to a headcount of 4 people without the proper authorities being notified?"

"Incompetence?" Provenza offered.

"That's where it gets complicated..." Taylor placed 4 photographs on the table, "Elsie Jones, Clara Goldstein and John Campbell all passed within away in the past couple of months, all from apparent natural causes." He held up the final photograph, it was of an elderly gentleman wearing military regalia. "World War 2 veteran Geoffrey Roberts passed away three days ago, and the coroner found something suspicious in the toxicology report..."

"Suspicious, how?" Sharon pressed him.

"A large amount of Aloe-Vera was found in his bloodstream."

Sharon frowned. "Excuse me?"

"Aloe-Vera? But that's a health supplement!" Provenza spluttered as he sat forward in his chair, suddenly taking an interest. "I take it every morning!"

Sharon shifted her frown to be directed at her Lieutenant, although his answer made her wish she hadn't.

"What?" He responded with a casual shrug. "It keeps me regular..."

"Thank you for that useful – yet repugnant – revelation, Lieutenant." Taylor's expression portrayed his disgust. "I am told that Aloe-Vera can actually be quite toxic. When it is taken with certain heart medications, it can actually increase heart rate, cause arrhythmia..."

"Let me guess," Provenza said. " Our four victims were taking that certain heart medication?"

"Only one actually," Taylor responded flatly. "Geoffrey Roberts was taking Digoxin; a drug used to treat patients with congestive heart failure."

"And the other three victims?" Sharon asked.

"Pick your poison," Taylor reached across the table and pointed at the photographs in turn as he spoke. "Insulin, morphine and diamorphine."

"Why wasn't this picked up with any of the first 3 victims?" Sharon asked. "Surely there were tox screens run..."

"Incompetence," Provenza offered again – and Taylor nodded glumly in agreement.

Sharon touched the edge of the photograph of Geoffrey Roberts, a thoughtful frown creasing her brow. "Are we thinking this is an Angel of Mercy, a carer who thinks that they are helping the victims move on somehow?"

"It's a possibility," Taylor agreed. "We have 4 victims, men and women of different races and religions...all they really seem to have in common is that they are residents at Pleasurewood."

"And they're rich," Provenza added."Where there's money...yada-yada-yada." He shrugged, before resting back in his chair again, his expression remorseful.

"Four victims is certainly quite the head count to reach in just a few months..." Sharon contemplated the motive. "Whoever it is, they're confident – cocky even."

"And cocky means mistakes," Taylor tapped his finger on the table to emphasise his point. "We need to be there to catch them when they screw up...and that's where you come in."

"Absolutely Chief," Sharon nodded firmly and got to her feet. "We'll start right away."

"Pleasurewood obviously want this case handled as quickly and as quietly as possible, Captain."

"Of course Chief," Sharon placed her hands firmly on her hips. "We will tread as lightly as possible – but we are investigating 4 murders; we will expect the full cooperation of the Pleasurewood team."

"Understandably they don't wish to alarm their residents; a herd of LAPD officers turning up and asking questions could be distressing..."

"Okay then," Sharon lowered herself back to perch on her chair; she knew better than to fight Chief Taylor when it came to Public Relations and the LAPD. Rather than bang heads with her superior – she had learnt over the past few years that it was much better to let him think that her proposal, was really his idea. "What do you suggest, Chief?"

"Well, Captain," Taylor reached for a file to his left and placed it in front of him. "We believe that the best course of action to identify the murderer - without causing too much upset – is to...infiltrate their society."

"Undercover..." Sharon nodded, then narrowed her eyes as soon as she saw Taylor's trademark smile creeping across his face. "What? You mean..."

"Now, wait a minute..." Provenza's protest proved futile.

"You move in later today," Taylor opened the file and pushed it across the table. "Mr and Mrs Moreau."

TBC

Thanks for reading :). Reviews are love!


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the characters of Major Crimes; they are not my intellectual property. I am not financially benefiting from this story in any way.

 **Notes:** Hi again; thanks for the lovely reviews! Much love to Mel for the beta read :) :)

Pleasurewood Pines – Chapter 2

The room fell into a stunned silence.

Sharon and Provenza blinked owlishly at their superior - and then at each other - as the gravity of his words really sunk in.

It was the Captain that spoke first.

"Chief," she began cautiously, pausing for thought, still not entirely sure how to broach the subject. "If I could possibly suggest..."

"You want us to what?" Provenza suddenly found his voice and cut in – unlike Sharon, his reaction was entirely devoid of diplomacy. "Are you insane?"

"You're both seasoned professionals with under cover experience..." To the untrained eye, Taylor's demeanour would have appeared nonchalant; he rested back in his chair with shrug, crossing his right knee over his left. "A set up like this should be a breeze for detectives of your calibre..."

"A _breeze_?" Sharon asked incredulously, her tone raising a whole octave. "Chief, with all due respect," she leaned into the table in an effort to drive her point home "we will drive each other crazy."

"Which will make you all the more convincing, as a couple that has been married for almost 40 years."

"But if we could just explore..."

Taylor held up his hand to stifle any more protests from his subordinates. "The decision has been made, Captain." He nudged the file further across the table towards them. "I suggest you familiarise yourself with your alter-ego's – and brief the team - they will all have a role in this too."

xXx

"This is bullshit." Provenza announced as they exited Taylor's office and shut the door behind them.

"I have to agree," Sharon responded with a sigh, as they walked the corridor towards their office. She clutched the case file to her chest, thoughts of the week ahead filling her with dread. The Captain was a fiercely private person - and until joining Major Crimes, had always kept her work-life and home-life separate. It had been a bold move allowing first Rusty, then Andy cross that self-imposed barrier she lay at her front door – and she was happier for doing so – but Louis Provenza? Having him over to watch the game, or for dinner was fine...occasionally...but sharing an apartment with the old-goat?

It was going to be a long case.

"That son-of-a-bitch was loving every minute..." Provenza, unaware of Sharon's internal dilemma continued his tirade.

"That may be true, Lieutenant." Sharon came to a stop as they reached the door to Major Crimes and she turned to face him. She knew if they were both going to get though this week in one piece – they had to focus on the case. "But that S.O.B – as you put it - is still our commanding officer and we have an obligation to see his orders through..."

"Captain, you can't be serious?"

"When am I not serious, Lieutenant?" Sharon raised her eyebrow.

"He's talking about us moving in together, Captain," Provenza pressed on. "You and me, together, under one roof, for hours and hours..."

"Okay, okay" she held her free hand up in surrender. "Look, I dislike this situation every bit as much as you do – _trust me_ \- but we have our orders."

"Captain,"

"Lieutenant." Sharon retorted somewhat snippily. "We need to accept the situation and move on; don't forget that in all of this, there are four murder victims."

Provenza sighed "All right," he reluctantly conceded. "Okay, but for the record – I _hate_ this."

"Duly noted." Sharon said flatly as she turned, clasping the door handle to enter the Murder room – but Provenza's next question stopped her in her tracks.

"But what about Flynn?" The Lieutenant voiced the question that was plaguing both of their minds. "Do you think he's just going to ' _accept the situation'_?"

The Captain paused for a beat, then keeping her hand on the door, twisted to face Provenza.

"Lieutenant Flynn will understand," she failed to sound convincing – even to her own ears.

Provenza looked at his Captain, disbelief evident in his expression.

"I admit..." Sharon tentatively continued. "...That there's a small possibility he might take issue with this arrangement..."

Provenza huffed. "Just a small possibility..."

"But I'm sure that he will handle this in a professional manner..."

"You're sure?" Provenza asked, his eyebrows creeping up his forehead.

Sharon tilted her head to one side. "I think so..."

"You want to speak to him together, before we brief the rest of the team?"

"Would you mind?" she answered quickly, relieved.

Provenza nodded glumly and gestured with his arm for Sharon to open the door. "Lead the way."

xXx

As Andy entered her office, Sharon sat upright in her chair – a nervous smile on her lips. Her hands were clasped together to prevent her from fussing with items on the desk; her fingers twitched in protest.

"Why do I feel like I've been called to the Principles office?" Andy quipped, trying to lighten the tense mood permeating the room.

"Please have a seat, Lieutenant." Sharon spoke carefully, but from Flynn's expression, it was clear that he saw straight through her calm façade.

"All right," Andy took a seat, frowning when Provenza closed the door, before moving to stand behind the Captain. "If this is an intervention guys, then you're over a decade late..." he joked, chuckling nervously. "Seriously – has something happened?"

"No, Andy." Sharon unclasped her hands and lay her palms flat on the desk - reaching over towards her Lieutenant. "I'm sorry for making you think the worst..." she glanced at Provenza. "We picked up a case this morning that is going to demand...a _little more..._ from some members of the team and we wanted to brief you first."

"Okay," Andy shrugged and rested back in his chair, looking a little more relaxed. "What do you need me to do?"

"Umm, well..." Sharon rubbed her lips together – another nervous habit – before continuing. "It's actually more about what we need you _not_ to do..."

Andy frowned. "Come again?"

"We need to you keep your cool, Flynn." Provenza spoke up – his patience already wearing thin.

"Well," Andy narrowed his eyes and sat forward in his chair again. "I can't exactly agree to that, without knowing what it is that you're not telling me - now can I?"

Provenza looked at the Captain from the corner of his eye. "He has a point, Captain."

"Very well," Sharon took a deep breath. "For the purposes of this case, we will be participating in an undercover assignment at a retirement complex in Brentwood Heights."

"A community for the 55's and over," Provenza chimed in. "It's not a home," he offered in explanation, when the Captain glared at him over her shoulder. "Just making the point."

Sharon returned her gaze to Andy, who now looked more puzzled than he did when he came into the room. "As a team, we will be involved in an undercover assignment in the hopes of catching the killer of at least 4 elderly residents...Assistant Chief Taylor believes that the best way to infiltrate this community without raising suspicion, is for us to pose as residents."

"Right," Andy nodded, before her words really sank in. "Wait," he frowned. "What?"

"Why don't you just tell him, _dear?_ "

Sharon turned to Lieutenant Provenza, aghast – yet conflicted. She found herself incensed at him for being so flippant - yet relieved that he'd finally got to the point, when it appeared that she could not. However before she could decide whether or not to chastise him, Andy spoke - and she turned attention back to him; bracing herself for the inevitable onslaught.

"What the hell?" Andy looked temporarily horrified - before his expression quickly turned more contemplative. "So, let me get this straight; Taylor, thinks that it's a good idea for you two to pose as a married couple, in order to solve these murders?"

"Yes," the Captain answered softly. "Yes, he does - but it's important to remember that..." She started in way of an explanation, then stopped suddenly when her Lieutenant erupted in an entirely unexpected way.

"You're laughing," Sharon stated the obvious, then turned to Provenza – a puzzled expression on her face. "Why is he laughing? Andy, why are you laughing?"

"Because," the Lieutenant gasped - struggling to speak. "This," he signalled with his hand between the Captain and Provenza. "Is hilarious."

When Sharon's expression deftly portrayed that she was failing to see the funny side, he elaborated.

"You two," Andy sighed and wiped at his eyes. "Pretending to be a couple! Living together – under one roof – in a retirement home; it's ridiculous!"

"It's a over 55's community," Sharon echoed Provenza's earlier words; her defensive response borne more of being laughed at, than of being at odds with Andy's summation. "And I fail to see how it's ridiculous..."

"Captain, come on!" Andy said though a smile, as he started to calm himself down. "I'm sorry, Sharon – but you're the most ordered person I know; your apartment is always spotless - even with a teenager living in it – and you're about to move in with Captain Caveman, here."

"Hey!" Provenza protested and Sharon stifled a smile.

"How can you _not_ see the humour in that?"

"Well, I am glad to be such a source of amusement for you, Flynn," Provenza grumbled as he moved to leave. "Now that I can see you're not going to have a stroke over this – I'll see you both in the murder room."

"Provenza, come on..." Andy called after him, still laughing as the elder Lieutenant left the office and shut the door behind him.

"He's a little sensitive about the retirement part, I think." Sharon explained; she could see how the situation could be deemed as amusing – that is if she weren't having to live it. Although considering how Andy could have reacted, she decided to allow him enjoyment at her expense – just this once – and painted on a smile. "So, you're really not mad?"

"Why would I be mad?" Andy shrugged his shoulders. "I believe it was you that said we needed to keep our home and work lives separate?"

At that, Sharon smiled genuinely for the first time since she had entered the building that morning; he really had surprised her. They had both grown so much together this past year; it took a moment like this to highlight that change.

"I must say," Sharon got to her feet. "I'm very impressed by your professionalism here, Lieutenant."

"Why, thank you, Captain." Lieutenant Flynn followed suit by getting to his feet; his gaze following Sharon as she moved around the desk towards him.

"So," She stopped but a hair's breadth away; happy that she had been mindful enough to close the blinds before their meeting. "You're really not in the least bit concerned that I will be spending the foreseeable living in the company of your best friend?"

"Concerned for his safety maybe," Sharon tugged on his tie and quirked an eyebrow. It wasn't often she let her guard down enough to be playful in the office – yet these were not normal circumstances.

"Seriously, I understand that we have a case to solve; and yeah, Provenza may have your company for what - a week?" He looped his arms around her waist and pulled her flush against him. "I'll have the pleasure for much longer than that."

It was now Sharon's turn to laugh, low and throaty. "That's very presumptuous of you, Andy."

"Trust me, after spending a few hours living with Provenza – I'll be looking like a pretty good catch – despite the snoring."

"Is that so?"

"Yup," He smiled as their lips met, and although they were standing in her office – Sharon let herself lean into him and deepen the kiss; who knew the next time they would be alone like this? It could be weeks...

They parted moments later, breathless, and with a sigh; their foreheads rested together.

"So what do I call you now?" Andy asked, looking up into her eyes, lifting a hand to tuck a stray stand of hair behind her ear.

"Mrs Ellen Moreau," Sharon said with an eye-roll and leant backwards – shaking her hair from her shoulders and resting her hands on Andy's upper-arms, so she could see his face. "I've got two children who live on the east coast, my husband of 40 years is a retired realtor – and I've never had to work a day in my life," she smiled wryly. "I'm a lady who lunches – apparently."

"Interesting," Andy smirked.

"Oh and that's not all," Sharon's lips curved into a sultry smile and she shifted in a little closer. "Don't tell anybody," she dropped her voice to a whisper. "But I hear, that I've got the hots for the new gardener."

"Me?"

"Uh-huh," Sharon nodded and pulled him down for another kiss; allowing herself to steal one more moment of happiness, before living a week of hell.

TBC

Notes: Thanks for reading :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer** : I do not own the characters of MC used the story below. I am only borrowing them – and will not be financially benefiting in anyway. No copy right infringement is intended.

 **Author Notes:** Thanks to Mel for the Beta! Still setting the scene with this chapter – please stick with me, the action will be starting soon enough :)

 **Chapter 3**

Rusty entered the apartment, closing the door behind him and dropping his keys on to the side table; he paused when he noticed Sharon's overnight bag by the couch.

"Mom?" He dropped his own bag to the floor and headed up the hall towards the bedrooms. "Mom, are you here?"

"We're in here," Sharon called from her room.

"We..." Rusty rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath as he followed the sound of her voice. The door was ajar, so he pushed it open to find Andy on his tiptoes trying to pull a large suitcase from the top shelf of the closet, whilst Sharon fussed over a pile of clothes on the bed.

"Hey," a frown creased the young man's brow; he pushed his hand through his hair – feeling slightly awkward about standing in Sharon's bedroom with Andy there too. He knew that Andy stayed over - and he knew what that meant - but he _really_ didn't like to think about it.

"Hey," Sharon smiled. "You're home early."

"You too," he shoved his hands in his pockets, temporarily catching Sharon's eye before quickly looking at his shoes. "Are you guys taking a vacation?"

"Oh, I wish," Sharon responded, as she walked around the bed to stand next to him. "No, Rusty," she reached out and gave his arm a reassuring rub – seemingly misinterpreting his weird body language as 'disappointed' rather than 'uncomfortable'. "We wouldn't just go away - not without telling you first."

"Okay," he nodded towards the case in Andy's arms. "...So then what's with all the luggage?"

"Your mother's moving in with Lieutenant Provenza, kid." Andy entered the conversation, as he lowered the suitcase to the floor.

"You're what?" Rusty asked, wide eyed – his discomfort forgotten.

"Andy," Sharon chided her lieutenant. "Don't tease him."

"What?" Andy raised his hands in mock surrender. "Tell me I'm wrong."

"What Andy is referring to," Sharon returned her gaze to Rusty, "...is that Lieutenant Provenza and I are taking part in an undercover operation..."

"As a couple?" Rusty balked.

"A married one," Andy added.

"Oh my God, are you serious right now?" Rusty asked amusedly, his puzzled expression quickly morphing to resemble the gleeful one on Andy's face. "You and Lieutenant Provenza - pretending to be married?"

"Unfortunately, yes…." Sharon grimaced.

"Oh man..." Rusty laughed. "You guys are going to murder each other!"

"Well then," Sharon returned to the pile of clothes on the bed. "Hopefully we will catch the killer before I'm forced to become one," she smiled thinly – growing tired of all the amusement at her expense. "Although," she paused contemplatively, a pair of Monolo's in hand. "We do have to be prepared for the operation to run for a while..."

"Mom, I'll be fine,"

"You won't be able to visit me at the facility – and Andy is working the case too..." Sharon ignored Rusty's protestations. "Maybe I'll leave Andrea's number on the refrigerator just in case..."

"Mom!" Rusty raised his voice and Sharon halted her rambling. "First of all, if I need you - I can call you. Our phones have this miraculous invention called FaceTime."

"Ha-Ha." Sharon responded sarcastically.

"Second of all - what do you mean by facility?"

' _Oh God,'_ Sharon winced; keenly aware that Rusty would now derive further enjoyment from her next statement. "The um… the undercover operation is taking place in a retirement community."

"A home?"

"No, no." Sharon quickly corrected him. "It's not a home..."

"Is there bingo?" Rusty joked.

"Every Monday night in the club house." Andy chipped in before Sharon had a chance to retaliate - and Rusty laughed in response.

"Well, I'm glad I'm such a source of entertainment for you both." Sharon had meant to sound angry, yet couldn't help but smile; even though the joke was at her expense, it was nice to see the men in her life bonding.

Rusty had been a little off since she and Andy had starting looking to move in together. Sharon understood that moving house would be hard for him; for the first time in the young man's life, he had started to lay down roots. This apartment was his home – it was their home – and at least in Rusty's eyes, Andy was threatening that new-found security. Sharon was happy to expolit any situation that could convince him otherwise...even if it was at her expense.

"Scrap booking?" Rusty continued.

"You got it," Andy added. "Wednesday night is scrabble..."

"I happen to like Scrabble," Sharon said.

"We rest our case," Rusty joked.

"Okay, that's enough," Sharon held up her hands to bring their mocking to an end; she had her limits. "May I remind you Andy Flynn, that you are actually three years older than me."

"Yeah, and I look good for it." A sideways smile slid across Andy's face.

"Oh – and are you saying that I don't?" Sharon asked, cocking her hip and raising an eyebrow.

"Oh God!" Rusty interrupted - expressing his disgust at their obvious flirting. "Can I leave now?"

"Of course," Sharon laughed at his reaction – thinking it served him right for poking fun at her. "But don't go too far, I'd like to see you before I leave."

"Yes, ma'am." Rusty murmured as he turned and left the room – closing the door behind him.

xXx

"Pleasurewood Pines," Provenza read out loud as he drove their rental through the retracting iron gates, that sealed the entrance to their new fake-home.

Sharon stretched as best she could in the tiny sports car they'd been given; the drive up had been a long one - Provenza had complained almost the entire way.

He was taking the 'retirement' element of the operation very personally; he seemed convinced that they were victims of ageism – and that Taylor wanted him gone. Despite Sharon reminding him that Taylor too was 'no spring chicken'- Provenza was adamant that he was taking the matter up with Human Resources as soon as the case had been solved.

Sharon had never been particularly sensitive about her age - why should she be? She was healthy and happy in both her career and personal life; she had lots of things to look forward to.

If she was honest with herself, it had stung a little to be considered for an operation in a retirement community – but in truth there wasn't anybody else that could do it. There were very few detectives in the LAPD of their calibre who fit the profile; which was something they should be proud of.

Lieutenant Provenance however, was struggling to appreciate the Captain's slant on things.

Sharon had kept her head in the case files for most of the journey – trying to retain as much information as possible about the character of the person whose life she was about to inhabit.

Pleasurewood Pines had a very exclusive waiting list of people selected by a board of members. The Moreau's, who had been on the list for the past three years, had submitted a very detailed application form to be accepted. Although the couple had never been physically seen by any of the inhabitants of the community – there was always the risk that details of their application had been circulated amongst their new neighbours.

The real Mr and Mrs Moreau were in fact currently on an all expenses paid vacation, courtesy of the LAPD.

"Ye Gods, look at this place!"

"Oh my..." Sharon slid her oversized sunglasses down her nose and took in her surroundings. It reminded her of a trip she took to Europe after college. A winding gravelled path stretched around a large lake; the waterside was dotted by spanish-style villa's – with the peaks of a golf course just visible in the distance. "It's beautiful."

"Do you know how much one of these places costs?" Provenza waved his arm in the direction of the villa's as he pulled the car into park by a large fountain, central to the entrance way. "I'd have to sell my organs to afford to live here."

"I'm not sure anyone would want them..." Sharon muttered under her breath as she checked her appearance in the sun-visor mirror; Provenza's incessant whining was really starting to get to her.

"I see you're in wife mode already," he retorted before something caught his eye. "Keep it up," he unbuckled his seatbelt. "Here comes our first test subject."

Sharon rubbed her lips together to ensure her newly applied lipstick was evenly spread, flipped up the sun visor and ran her fingers through her hair.

' _Show time.'_

She felt a fluttering of nerves as she stepped out of the Chevrolet Stingray (which was not an easy thing to do gracefully, whilst wearing high-heels), to greet the welcoming party.

"Mr and Mrs Moreau?" A tall, slender, well groomed man with sharp features strode confidently across the gravelled driveway towards them. A a short, podgy man with receding hairline and an armful of files scurried behind.

"That's right," Provenza painted on a smile and draped an arm awkwardly around Sharon – feeling her stiffen slightly in response. "Please, just call us Bob and Ellen.

"Welcome to the community." He shook Provenza's hand firmly. "I'm Kenneth, the General Manager here at Pleasurewood Pines."

"Why, thank you." Provenza held his smile - which was making his face ache. "We're very happy to be here."

"My my," Kenneth took Sharon's hand and bent at the waist to kiss it. "Enchanté, Ellen. May I say you don't look a day over 50."

"Thank you, Kenneth." Sharon narrowed her eyes and snatched her hand away quickly. "And this is?" She looked over the manager's shoulder to the portly man in the background.

"Oh, that's just Kenny – my assistant." Kenneth said dismissively. "He doesn't say much."

Kenny nodded in greeting – his spectacles sliding down his nose as he did.

"Kenneth and Kenny?" Provenza asked. "Doesn't that get confusing?"

"No, why would it?" Kenneth frowned. "As you can see, we're nothing alike."

Provenza looked confused, and was about to respond with a dose of sarcasm – when a nudge from Sharon made him school his features.

"So, which one of these gorgeous villa's is ours..." Sharon quickly changed the subject. "Our realtor showed us the photographs – I'm just so anxious to see it in person..."

"Of course," Kenneth gathered his thoughts – and with a click of his fingers – Kenny passed him a golden envelope.

"The keys to your palace," he placed the envelope in Sharon's hand and took a step backwards. "I trust you will find everything to your liking."

Sharon peered inside the open envelope to find two keys on garish pink and blue key chains. She stifled a cringe as she dug them out, presenting them to Provenza on her palm. "Oh honey look," Sharon beamed, knowing that Provenza would hate them every bit as much as she did. "They put our names on the key chains – isn't that just precious?"

"Why yes..." Provenza chuckled, in attempt to mask the horrified expression on his face.

"Your villa is number 23, top of the hill and to your left; you've got the best views of both the lake and the golf course. Will you be requiring assistance with your unpacking?"

"Oh, no thank you," Sharon answered quickly as she dropped the keys back into the envelope; they didn't need anybody snooping through their fake things. "We hired a moving firm to do the heavy lifting." She nodded her head towards the large truck they had arrived with – Lieutenant Cooper at it's helm.

"Well, that's just fine." Kenneth clasped his hands together. "I will bid you both adieu; if you need me, my contact details are in the envelope – my office is just in that building behind us."

With that, both Kenneth and Kenny turned and wondered back towards the building from whence they came. Sharon and Provenza watched them disappear before finally stepping apart; both visibly relaxed once their personal space had been restored.

"And there was me thinking that we'd be the oddest couple here..." Provenza said, suspiciously eyeing the building that the two men had entered.

Sharon smiled. "Come along on Bob," she turned to make her way back to the car. "There's still work to be done."

xXx

Sharon watched from the kitchen window as the truck made it's way back down the winding path to the exit; leaving the Captain and Lieutenant alone in their new home.

Andy and Julio would be starting their new roles as gardeners tomorrow morning, with the rest of the team manning a surveillance vehicle parked meters from the entrance; Buzz had already rigged up motion detecting security cameras around the villa.

Provenza was outside, having perched himself on the front porch in an attempt to entice people over. He'd already identified the lady at number 22 as a 'curtain twitcher' - and expected that she would be the first visitor after the truck left.

Sharon turned to face the open-plan living space, which was a similar in size to her own apartment – however the furniture was more lavish and colourful...much like her new wardrobe.

Ellen Moreau, it appeared, dressed far less conservatively than the LAPD captain. As Ellen had sited 'vintage Versace' and 'colour psychology' as two of her interests on the community application form - Sharon had been able to source very few items of clothing from her own collection.

Now, loud colours and elaborate patterns decorated both Sharon and her new living space – which she did think was in poor taste - considering the previous two tenants had been murder victims.

She shivered; the thought of two people recently losing their lives in her sitting room gave Sharon the heebie-jeebies. What she found strange, was that despite the exuberance of the Moreau's bulky furniture – the villa still felt so empty.

Sharon mentally shook herself; if she hadn't known the history of the villa – she wouldn't even be thinking about how it 'felt'.

"Oh, Ellen honey," Provenza calling from the front porch interrupted her thoughts.

"Yes, Bob?" She responded in a sing-song voice; she would never get used to Provenza calling her honey.

"We have company."

xXx

Roberta Swallow paced the floor of her villa, tugging her silk bath robe tightly around her slight frame. Backwards and forwards, backwards and forwards – her slippers making a slapping sound against the tiles as she walked.

For the third time that hour, she stopped by the window and drew back the curtain to look at them – the new people.

"They don't know," she narrowed her eyes as she spoke. _"_ How could they know?Geoffrey didn't know..."

Roberta moved away from the window and continued to pace; backwards and forwards, backwards and forwards – before stopping to look again.

"He's seen me," _s_ he closed the curatin quickly, as the man on the porch looked straight at her. "He's seen me," she repeated as she walked backwards from the window – until the backs of her legs connected with her glass coffee table.

"Geoffrey…"

She slowly reached into her robe pocket and pulled out an insulin pen – and with a shaking hand, she held it out in front of her.

"I'll do it," she spoke into the dimly lit room. "You can't stop me...I'll..."

Roberta never finished her sentence.

Her breath caught in her throat and her back arched – before she collapsed heavily to the floor...liquid crimson trickling between the terracotta tiles.

TBC…

Ooops...Slight mood change at the end there!

Thanks for reading :)


	4. Chapter 4

Notes: So sorry about the delay on this chapter – my life got in the way!

You may wish to re-read the end of chapter 3 to refresh your memory - as this chapter picks up right where the last left off!

Thanks to Mel for the Beta! It's always amusing when we come across a word that I didn't know was spelt differently in the US. Yes, pyjama is a word lol!

Disclaimer in part 1.

Anyway, I do hope it was worth the wait…*nervously bites nails*...

 **Pleasurewood Pines – Chapter 4**

"I don't think that I'll ever get used to this heat," Fenella Cartwright – a retired English play-write and four year resident of Pleasurewood Pines - fanned herself with a piece of paper she had arrived holding. "Coming here on holiday is one thing, but living in this wretched heat is another. You're from New York right, Ellen? Don't you find this weather incredibly stifling?"

"We lived in Florida for a spell and the humidity there played havoc with my hair," Sharon led her new neighbour into the house, whilst Provenza entertained Nigel Cartwright on the porch. "So this is a preferred heat."

"Right," Fenella responded absently, seemingly distracted by the vibrancy of the Moreau's furnishings. "My, Ellen! Have you really only been moved in a few hours? You've unpacked already!"

"We used very efficient movers," The Captain opened a kitchen cupboard and took out four tall glasses.

"I can see," Fenella nodded in agreement as she gazed around the living space in awe. "This place already looks so...so..."

"Organised?"

"Colourful," Fenella finished her sentence with a wry smile and Sharon hummed contemplatively; from the way she dressed, the play-write appeared to favour a more classic style than Ellen Moreau. At least the Captain now knew that Fenella spoke her mind – a trait that could prove quite useful during the course of their investigation.

"I just love colour, don't you?" Sharon opened the refrigerator and pulled out a pitcher that she had already prepared for expected visitors. "It can really set the mood of a room, iced-tea okay?"

"Anything cold and wet please; I'm gasping." Fenella took a seat at the counter as Sharon placed the pitcher and four glasses on a tray. "I suppose this place needed a little cheering up, after what happened with last resident..."

"Mr Roberts, right?" Sharon frowned as she placed ice into each of the glasses. "He passed?"

"It's like a conveyor belt here, Ellen," Fenella shrugged. "A person moves in, they play a little golf, shuffle off of this mortal-coil – and the cycle begins again."

"Well, they didn't put that in the brochure." Sharon dead-panned, using a statement uttered by Provenza earlier that morning. It seemed to be well received as Fenella released a laugh and shook her head; her well lacquered, blonde bob didn't so much as sway with the movement.

"You're funny," Fenella tilted her head, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "We could use funny – it's been a terrible bore of late."

"Are you a close community?" Sharon asked as she took hold of the tray and started to head out to the porch to rescue Provenza – concerned that he may have already gotten himself into trouble.

"Well, everybody knows everybody – if that's what you mean." Fenella followed closely behind. "There are a few couples that we spend most of our time with...As a matter of fact we came over to invite you both for dinner tomorrow night."

"Oh, that sound's lovely." Sharon lay the tray down on a small wooden table and handed out the drinks. "Isn't that nice, Bob?"

"Sound's great." Provenza shared a glance with Sharon, as he sipped his iced-tea.

"You can get to meet the troops, so to speak," Fenella continued. "We like our new residents to feel welcome."

"You like to interrogate them, you mean." Nigel muttered as he brought the iced-tea to his lips.

"Not at all," Fenella spoke through a fixed smile, although she was clearly incensed by her husbands off-the-cuff comment. "You know that I always like to invite the new arrivals around to welcome them to the community."

"Of course you do, my darling," Nigel's tone dripped with sarcasm. To Sharon, his demeanour and ultra-casual appearance lacked signs of any inclination that he wanted to meet his new neighbours, or make a good first impression; he and Fenella were quite the contrast.

"Speaking of troops," Provenza interrupted in an effort to alleviate the tension festering between the couple. "Nigel here was just telling me that the previous tenant was a decorated soldier from the second world war."

"Oh," Sharon played along."Is that right?"

"That's right," Nigel seemed to perk up at the mention of the recently deceased. "Geoffrey was a member of 66th Infantry division – he spent time in Northern France."

"Did you know him well, Nigel?" Sharon asked.

"He hadn't been here very long - but I used to sit with him sometimes; he'd tell me stories." Nigel gazed wistfully at the swinging bench where Provenza had sat moments earlier. "His mind was starting to deteriorate – but he could still tell a bloody good story."

"He mostly kept to himself," Fenella joined the conversation, fanning herself with the piece of paper again. "Well, apart from Roberta next door," she nodded her head in the direction of the villa next to theirs. "...And that wasn't really his choice."

"I think I may have seen Roberta earlier," Provenza's eyes narrowed.

"Peeking out through her curtains?"

"A past time of hers, is it?"

"Well, you could say that," Fenella took a sip of her drink. "She's nuttier than a fruitcake, that one."

"In what way?" Sharon asked.

"She's a religious nut from...Louisiana?" Fenella looked to her husband to confirm.

"That's right," Nigel confirmed. "Her husband was some kind of faith healer – claimed he could cure people of disease; a load of old cods-wallop if you ask me."

"Does her husband live here too?"

"Oh, no", Fenella answered. "The authorities caught up with him a long time ago – he died prison, I think."

"So how does she afford to live in a place like this?" Provenza frowned.

"Roberta's son pays. I'm not sure how he got his money – but he seemed very well-to-do when we met him," Fenella placed her glass back on the tray. "Nothing like his mother, that's for sure."

"We were led to believe that there was some kind of vetting process to become a resident here?" Sharon asked.

"There is now; back when Roberta moved in, they'd just accept any riff-raff that could afford the price tag."

Sharon and Provenza glanced at each other over their drinks, before the Lieutenant pressed on. "So does everybody have a say in who gets to live here? Or do you have to be on some kind of committee?"

"A committee of course – it's all very above board, Bob." Fenella explained. "I actually chair the meetings – and I suggest you get yourselves involved too. I'm sure you'd rather live out your final days in the company of those of sane mind – not those who talk to the dead."

"Talking to the dead?" Provenza asked. "Like a clairvoyant?"

"A bit of an exaggeration, Fenella." Nigel corrected his wife. "Roberta was just convinced that this villa still belonged to Clara..."

"Clara Goldstein; the lady that lived here before Geoffrey," Fenella cut in.

"She and Roberta were friends, if I recall." Nigel continued. "When Geoffrey moved in, Roberta would knock on his door and ask to speak to Clara. She kept saying that she had seen her through the window and that Geoffrey was hiding her."

"Clara passed here too?" Sharon enquired.

"Yes," Nigel nodded. "Not that there's anything unusual in that," he shrugged. "There are just two ways people leave Pleasurewood Pines my dear Ellen – that's either in an ambulance or a body bag."

"But there's a lot of fun to be had in-between," Fenella quickly added; sensing their 'welcoming party' had taken a solemn turn.

"Something to look forward to then." Sharon muttered as she eyed Roberta's house suspiciously; an uneasy feeling settling over her.

 **xXx**

"Earth calling Lieutenant Provenza," Sharon returned to the living room after calling Rusty, to find her colleague staring into space; he was sitting at the head of the dining table, case files haphazardly strewn across the wooden surface. "Are you okay?"

They had been going over the case since the Cartwright's left; befriending the community busy-body was already proving fruitful to their investigation. The piece of paper Fenella had arrived fanning herself with, had turned out to be a list of all of the other residents at Pleasurewood, their villa number and a snippet of information about each of them.

There were an eclectic bunch; plastic surgeons, actors, dentists and botanist to name a few. Based on their professions, at least 10 of them could harbour the medical knowledge required to have murdered the victims – including Dr Nigel Cartwright.

"Yeah, I'm just thinking about what Nigel said," Provenza got to his feet and went to the sink to fill up his glass with water.

"Which bit?" Sharon asked as she placed the plates from their working-dinner into the dishwasher.

"The bit about only leaving Pleasurewood in an ambulance or a body bag."

"Oh, that." Sharon wiped her hands on a tea-towel and leant against the kitchen counter. "Fenella said something similar to me," she frowned. "They've both got a rather bleak outlook on retirement, for a couple that seem to be high-standing members of this community."

"Maybe they know something's afoot," Provenza gathered the files from the table. "Fenella said they were involved in the resident selection process; maybe this whole thing links back to that."

"It's a possibility..." Sharon frowned, folding her arms over her chest. "I'll go see Roberta next door first thing tomorrow morning – see if I can learn more about Geoffrey and Clara. If you can run that list from Fenella past Mike – get him to research the names we highlighted on the list."

"Sounds like a plan." Provenza responded through a yawn. "I'm beat - I'm off to bed."

"Some light bedtime reading?" Sharon nodded to the case files under Provenza's arm.

"Helps me sleep," he responded with a shrug.

"I'm sure," Sharon rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to the dishwasher. "Good night, Bob," she called after him – a smirk touching her lips.

"Goodnight, dear." Provenza responded with an equal dose of sarcasm.

 **xXx**

Sharon awoke with a start; her heart was pounding in her chest as she sat bolt upright, gasping for air.

The room was dark, only moonlight filtered through the slat-blinds that adorned the windows – sending a striped pattern across her bed; her surroundings being unfamiliar, it took her a few moments to remember where she was.

The red lights of her alarm clock read 03:12.

Sharon flopped back against the pillows and sighed – wondering what had awoken her so dramatically. She lay still for a few beats, listening for any movement in or outside the property – but her ears were only met with silence.

She rolled onto her side and a light pressure in her bladder made it's presence be known. With a groan, she kicked off the covers, swung her legs off of the bed and picked up her glasses from the bedside table.

The tiled floor was cool under her feet as she padded across the bedroom and after adjusting her grey silk pyjamas to ensure she was decent – she opened the door to the hallway. She and Provenza had drawn straws for the bedroom with an en-suite – unfortunately for Sharon, the Lieutenant had lucked out.

The hallway was darker than her bedroom; Sharon fumbled on the wall for a short time before she located the light switch. The spotlights above blinked into action and she adjusted her eyes to the brightness, before crossing the hall to the bathroom which was directly opposite.

Despite awakening after only four hours of sleep, Sharon actually felt quite rested. The villa was very comfortable – there were certainly worst places they could be undercover. With Andy and Julio arriving in just a few hours – and the help of Fenella's list, they should be able to scope out the key suspects before the Cartwright's dinner party.

' _So far, so good,'_ Sharon thought sleepily to herself, as she flushed the toilet and washed her hands.

With a yawn, she simultaneously opened the bathroom door and pulled the cord light switch – unexpectedly plunging her self into darkness.

The Captain froze.

' _I_ _left the hall light on...'_

Her heart rate quickened as she scrambled for the pull cord and turned the bathroom light back on.

"What the…?"

On the floor, in the centre of the corridor, lay the envelope that had been given to her by the General Manager when they arrived at Pleasurewood Pines; it's contents now strewn along the hallway – leading to the living space.

"Hello?" Sharon called out into the darkness. "Is there somebody there?"

Motion detectors had been rigged around the villa – triggering camera footage that had a live feed to her detectives parked down the road in a van. If their lives were in danger, her team were to call her cell phone; surley, Sharon thought, the camera's couldn't have missed whoever did this...

Unless they came from inside her bedroom…

Along with the bathrooms, the bedrooms were the only places without a camera.

She squinted as she peered down the hallway to the darkened living area, then across to her open bedroom door – where her glock 22 sat on the dresser.

After drawing a deep breath and with lightening speed, Sharon crossed the hallway to her bedroom. Grabbing her gun from the dresser, she pressed her back to the wall and surveyed the room.

Although everything seemed undisturbed, she swept around the bed, checking underneath it on her way to the closet – the door to which was open just a crack.

She opened it quickly, pushing the clothes aside until she was satisfied that the room was clear.

Turning her attention to the rest of the house, Sharon edged towards the living area - side stepping the contents of the envelope on the floor. She held her gun out in front of her – her heart felt like it was in her throat.

The very second that Sharon flipped the switch to the living area – the doorbell rang out.

Startled, the Captain spun to face the noise and with her heart pounding in her ears, she moved swiftly towards the front door and peered through the peep-hole.

Sharon sighed with relief; with the gun behind her back – she opened the front door.

"Kenneth?" Sharon greeted the General Manager with a puzzled expression on her face. "Why are you ringing our doorbell at this time?"

"I'm so very sorry to disturb you on your first night Mrs Moreau," the manager said remorsefully. "But the police wouldn't let it wait until morning."

"Police?" Sharon looked beyond Kenneth to see Detective Sykes standing by her car. Beyond the detective, she saw Kendall and his team entering Roberta's property, carrying plastic cases containing crime scene equipment.

"What the hell has happened?" Sharon asked, fearing she already knew the answer.

"I'm afraid your neighbour Mrs Swallow, had an accident earlier today..."

"An accident?" Sharon asked. "Then why are the police here?"

"Ma'am," Amy came forward her badge held high, side stepping the manager. "Can I come inside?"

"Of course," Sharon moved aside and let Amy enter the villa - before closing the door on Kenneth and the chaos of the new crime scene.

 **TBC**

Oh yeah, forgot to tell you...this story is going to be a bit spooky in places :)

Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters or settings below – I am only borrowing them – and will not be financially benefitting from the story in anyway. No copyright infringement is intended.

 **Notes:** Another installment – I hope you enjoy it :) Thank you to Mel for the beta :)

 **Pleasurewood Pines – Chapter 5**

"Amy," The Captain flipped the latch to secure the front door, before turning to follow Detective Sykes into the kitchen. "What's going on?" She asked, appearing eager to hear the particulars. "What happened to Roberta?"

Detective Sykes took in her surroundings as she clipped her badge back onto her belt.

Having agreed to take the night shift in the van, she hadn't actually been inside the villa before now; it was much roomier than it appeared on the surveillance cameras.

When she turned to face her superior, she faltered slightly; seeing the usually impeccably-dressed Captain standing there in her pyjama's, hair slept on without a scrap of make-up on her face – it made the younger detective pause for a beat. Raydor looked softer than usual to Amy – more personable...Well...apart from the gun in her hand...

"What's going on?" Before the detective found her voice, a door at the end of the corridor opened and a dishevelled Provenza exited his bedroom. The lieutenant careened down the hallway towards his colleagues – and upon seeing Sykes, he pulled his robe tightly around himself – securing it in place with the cord. "Why's she here?"

Although wearing pyjama's had softened her Captain – to Amy - Provenza looked grumpier than ever. Still, she was thankful that he'd secured his robe – even if she was confused as to why he thought she would want to look in the first place...

"It's good to see you too, Lieutenant," Sykes responded sarcastically. "Retirement looks good on you,"

"Now, just you wait a..." Provenza started to voice a characteristically crotchety retort, however in his haste - he failed to see the envelope and it's contents, strewn across the hall floor.

"What the..?" He stumbled over them – managing to correct himself just before he reached Sharon's side. "What the hell's all that crap on the floor?" When he looked at the Captain, his frown deepened. "And why the hell do you have your gun?"

"One question at a time, Lieutenant please." Sharon said with a sigh as she pinched the bridge of her nose under her glasses. "Detective Sykes was about to explain..."

"Right," Sykes straightened her spine before providing the Captain with the situation report – remnants of her time spent in the military. "Roberta Swallow was found dead by a member of the community's security team about an hour ago, Captain..."

"Roberta's dead?" Provenza interrupted, playing catch-up. "Murdered?"

"Hard to say, Sir," Sykes placed her hands on her hips. "Roberta was found on the floor – and there was a lot of blood coming from a wound on her head..."

"Is Lieutenant Tao on the scene?" Sharon asked.

"Yes, Captain,"

"What is his observation?"

"Splatter trajectory seems to indicate that she hit her head on the tiled floor, Captain."

"Doesn't mean she wasn't murdered," Provenza added. "Do we have an approximate time of death? I saw Roberta just this afternoon looking through her window..."

"Not yet," Amy shook her head. "Kendall and his team have only just arrived, so we should know more soon."

"Okay," The Captain placed her gun on the kitchen counter and began to pace the floor, as she so often did in the murder room when formulating a plan . "Based on the previous murders, we won't know for sure if Roberta is another victim until we get a toxicology report - but let's treat it as suspicious until we know more." She stopped by the couch and folded her arms over her chest. "Amy, you said that it was a member of the security team that found Roberta?"

"Yes," the detective pulled a notepad from her trouser back-pocket. "An Anthony Webber..."

"You spoke with Mr Webber?" Sharon asked and Amy responded with a nod. "Was there a disturbance? Or something that alerted him to check in on Roberta?"

"He said..." Sykes referred to her notes. "He said that he was conducting a scheduled walk around the site...and he noticed Roberta's lights were out."

"Figuratively or literally?" Provenza asked as he moved to sit heavily on a stool by the kitchen counter and rubbed his eyes.

"Roberta always slept with the lights on, Sir,"

"Of course she did," the Lieutenant grumbled. "The old bird saw dead people; I'd sure as hell sleep with the lights on too..."

"She saw what, now?" Amy asked – sure she had misheard.

"That's awfully attentive of them," Sharon swiftly moved the conversation on.

"That's what I thought," Amy offered an explanation. "Apparently somebody always went to check on Roberta at night, if the power went out. She was terrified of the dark...I'm sorry," she turned her attention back to the Lieutenant. "Did you just say that Roberta saw dead people?"

"Why?" Sharon stopped pacing – her attention focussed on Amy. "Is that relevant?"

"Well, not particularly - but there was something odd..." Amy pulled her cellphone out of her other pocket and walked towards the Captain. "As Mike said, the blood trajectory was consistent with her having hit her head in a fall – however this was written in the blood next to her body..." She handed the Captain her phone with an image on the screen. "What does that look like to you?"

"Is that the number 2? Or..." Sharon tilted her head and narrowed her eyes.

Provenza moved to peer over the Captain's shoulder. "It looks more like a backwards 'S'..." he looked up at Sykes. "Roberta wrote this?"

"If you swipe on to the next photo," Amy signalled with her hand and the Captain complied. "You'll see that based on where she is laying, if Robert drew it..."

"...she had to have moved afterwards." The Captain finished Amy's sentence.

Detective Sykes nodded. "She must have rolled onto her arm..."

"How could she have rolled on to her arm from writing at that angle?" Provenza twisted his body and pulled his arm towards his chest in demonstration. "She would have had to draw her arm under her body – not roll on to it."

"That would have taken some effort..." Sharon mused.

"Why the hell would she use her dying breath to do that?" Provenza asked, frustrated. "She could have at least finished the message..."

Sharon swiped back to the first image, her expression contemplative. "Unless this is the finished message?"

The three were silent for a beat as they considered the scrawl – eventually the Captain spoke.

"All right...Amy - please have Dr Morales prioritise the tox screen - and request Roberta's medical records from the facility; I want the medication our victim was supposed to be taking, cross referenced with her tox results."

"Yes, Captain."

"I also want you to check Roberta's hands," Sharon handed the cellphone back to the detective. "If Roberta did write this, her fingers of her right hand will be coated in blood."

"Of course," Sykes nodded and made to leave.

"Oh, and Amy?"

"Captain?" the detective paused with her hand on the door handle, to see her superior looking down the hallway, towards the bedrooms.

"Could you also return to the surveillance van and pull all footage of the living area and corridor from the last hour," she turned back to face Amy. "...And bring it to me?"

"Why?" Provenza asked, incredulously – then when he looked at Sharon's gun on the counter, he got back on to his feet. "Wait, did something happen in here? Is that why you had your gun?"

"I'm not entirely sure – but I do know that I didn't do this," Sharon waived her arm in the direction of the items scattered across the hallway floor. "Did you, Lieutenant?"

xXx

Roberta's villa was quiet now; the chaos fading just as the sun rose over the hills. A crumpled flowerbed was the only evidence that the police had been there at all.

' _That'll give Andy something to do,'_ Sharon mused.

Both he and Julio would be arriving at the facility any minute for 'gardening duty' - and she had to admit, she missed him last night. Even though they hadn't officially moved in together yet, more often than not - Andy spent the night at her apartment. It started with his health-scare, then because her place was nearer to the office - and they kept unpredictable hours – he'd stay over...after that...they just kind of fell into the routine. It took Sharon removing herself from the situation, to make her realise how unusual it felt to spend the night apart.

The Captain looked at Roberta's villa from her porch, sipping a coffee – the mug wrapped in both of her hands as she savoured the bitter taste.

The standard practise of crossing the front door with yellow crime scene tape and placing a uniformed officer on the porch, really wasn't an option here. The Captain knew that their best chance of closing the case, was if the murderer didn't know that the police were on to them.

With confidence comes sloppiness – and at the rate the killer was going – something had to give.

"Oh Ellen, dear!" Sharon's musings were interrupted by the sound of her fake-husband calling from inside the house.

She walked back towards the door to find Provenza holding the house phone to his chest.

"It's Fenella, she wants to know if she and the girls can pop over for tea?" Provenza's irritated expression defied the joviality in his tone.

' _Girls?'_ Sharon mouthed; she had wondered when the vultures would begin to swoop in, searching for titbits of gossip about Roberta. "Of course," she answered with false enthusiasm. "I'll pop the kettle on."

xXx

"Here come the 'Golden Girls'." Provenza stepped back from the window and repositioned the blind. "I'm going to go and see Kenneth and Kenny in the office..."

"You're leaving me?" Sharon asked, her eyes wide; she was fully aware of how pitiful she sounded.

"I'm going to find out more about that committee Fenella told us about yesterday," he grabbed his sun hat off of the counter - the one possession he refused to give up. "I'm sure a Captain of your calibre can handle three old ladies."

Sharon made a whimpering noise and contemplated pulling rank, as Provenza greeted their guests at the door.

"Good Morning, Bob." Fenella said enthusiastically.

"Ladies, it's nice to meet you – but I'm afraid you just caught me on my way out." Provenza skilfully edged his way past Fenella and two other ladies; both scuttling behind her, like groupies would a band.

"That's a shame," Fenella said. "We'll see you tonight though?"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world." Provenza waved his arm in the air as he hurried away.

"Good Morning, Fenella." Sharon painted on a smile and moved across the room towards her guests. "How are you?"

"Well, I'm just fine, thank you," the blonde smoothed her hands over her hair, then puffed it up in a single motion. "But did you hear about poor Roberta? Terrible news..."

"I know - and you were just telling us about her yesterday," Sharon nodded glumly. "So terrible."

"I hear that the police were here," Fenella spoke in hushed tones, as her companions stood behind, twitching for an introduction.

"Yes, that's right," Sharon shared a glance with the smaller of the two other ladies and smiled politely. "They said she fell - I think they were just ruling out false play."

"Right," Fenella said, not sounding trerribly convinced. As a playwright, the blonde had a nose for drama - Sharon only hoped that she'd never written anything crime related.

One of the other ladies cleared her throat - which seemed enough to draw Fenella from her thoughts.

"Oh," the blonde stepped to the side to allow the other ladies to escape the entrance way. " I almost forgot - this is Sandra Ellis from number 12; Georgia born and bread and life and soul of any party,"

Sandra couldn't be more than 5 feet tall; her mane of fiery red hair certainly gave her a presence – and temporarily distracted Sharon from the 'Joan Rivers-esq' plastic surgery the woman's face had endured. The Captain outstretched her hand to greet her guest. "It's nice to meet you, Sandra."

"Charmed," Sandra limply shook Sharon's hand as she slinked past, moving further into the villa. "Love what you've done with the place," she said as she wondered the living area – and Sharon believed her words to be genuine; one thing was clear - Sandra and Ellen Moreau both had flamboyant tastes.

"And this is Mavis Campbell from number 29 - her husband was a surgeon – he passed earlier this year..."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," Sharon recognised the surname and concluded that Mavis was the widow of their second victim John Campbell.

"Don't worry, dear." Mavis, probably the oldest of the three ladies (although with Sandra it was difficult to tell) patted Sharon's hand – before chastising Fenella. "What a way to introduce someone," she muttered as she passed the playwright and moved to take as seat on the couch. "Sandra's the life and soul of the party - and I have a dead husband."

Fenella rolled her eyes and followed the older woman to the couch – and Sharon tried to stifle a smile.

It appeared they weren't Fenella's groupies after all.

"Well, it's lovely to meet you both." Sharon concluded. "Who wants tea?"

After her ears were graced with a chorus of 'please', Sharon made her way to the kitchen – just as the doorbell rang.

Sharon, who was already on edge, felt her heart skip a beat.

"I'll get it," Sandra, the only guest still on her feet, swiftly made her way to open the door – with the Captain following closely behind; odds were that the knock on the door was 'police' related.

"Good Morning ma'am, I hear you'd like your garden tending to..." Sharon heard Andy's voice before she saw him."Oh, um sorry..."

"Well, hello there handsome..." Sandra leant against the door frame.

"Sorry, Ma'am," Andy flushed crimson. "Is um, is Mrs Moreau here?"

"I'm here!" Sharon called out – rushing to the door – almost as red faced as Andy. "Can I help you?" She asked, tight lipped - as she took in the sight before her.

Andy 'the Gardner' stood on her porch, looking like a rabbit in the headlights. He had donned khaki waders, that were attached to suspenders – and if Sharon weren't so embarrassed by his double-entendre – she might have commented that he looked like he was going fishing, rather than landscaping.

' _Why didn't he just_ _wait until door was fully open before he started speaking?'_

"I'm sorry ma'am," Andy recovered. "The man on the front desk said that you needed your garden tending to?"

"Oh, right," Sharon spluttered. "Well, as you can see I have company at the moment – can I find you later?"

"Uh, sure," Andy pulled something from his pocket. "Oh and the um, the guy on the front desk, he also asked me to give you this," he handed the Captain a USB stick – which she surmised was the surveillance footage from last night. "I'll be working the ground out by the entrance, so just um just holler when you need me," he made to leave. "Ladies," he said with a nod and a smile, before he turned and stepped off the porch.

Sharon moved to shut the door, but realised that now all three ladies were standing around her in the door way, peering over her

shoulders.

"Well, he sure is an improvement on the last gardener." Mavis said as she craned her neck to watch him walking away.

"Sure is," Sandra fanned herself and turned back into the room. "He can tend my bush any time."

"Sandra!" Mavis gasped. "You're so uncouth."

"Honey, you wouldn't want me any other way."

The two ladies chatted and moved back into the living room to take a seat on the couch, but Sharon still felt Fenella's scrutinous gaze upon her. When she looked in her direction, the playwright quickly diverted her eyes.

As Sharon busied herself with making tea, she silently hoped that she and Andy's odd behaviour, hadn't raised Fenella's suspicions too much; with her links to the community – maintaining close relations with the woman was a must for their case.

If Roberta really was the fifth victim, time was of the essence. Their killer wasn't slowing down, so neither could they.

TBC

What? No Cliff hanger...that's very unlike me!

Oh, and for my fellow Brits - when I say Andy is wearing suspenders - I mean braces - not suspenders of the 'Frank 'n' Furter variety lol!

Comments/Reviews are always welcome and a great motivator :)

Thanks for reading!


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